


Ben Bowlo

by Shestoolazytologin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, ben bowlo, ben goes to the hairdresser, ben is in deep shit, bowlogate, brought to you on ao3, dont throw your tomatoes at me, idek what to tag this anymore., originally a twitter fic, she gets distracted, the hairdresser thinks he is hot, this wanted out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22892824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shestoolazytologin/pseuds/Shestoolazytologin
Summary: Hairdresser Rey is so distracted by her hot customer, she accidentally gives him a bowl-cut.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 16
Kudos: 31





	Ben Bowlo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ksco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ksco/gifts).



> This wanted out. Originally posted as a twitter fic, here's the prompt from Reylo Prompts.
> 
> Lauren, I've loved bonding with you over our shared love of Bowlo ❤️
> 
> There are two pics in this fic. The first one is all me. The second one is courtesy of the lovely RensKnight18 ❤️
> 
> This work is unbetaed.

Her first appointment walks in at exactly 9:00 AM. She looks up at him, and her breath catches in her throat. He’s tall, broad, his eyes so deep she feels like drowning in them. His nose is rather large, his lips are full, and Rey has never seen a man more beautiful than him.

He’s beautiful, and yet there is one thing that has Rey more captivated than anything else: his hair. It’s luscious, and soft, and wavy, and she itches to run her fingers through it.  
  


“Hello,” she says, keeping her eyes on his instead of his pouty lips. “How may I help you?” 

His smile is subtle, a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ kind of thing, born more out of politeness rather than actual joy.  
  


“Hi, I have an appointment with Rey?” He says, and she knows he’s checking for the non-existing name tag on her shirt. 

She walks out from behind the counter and up to him. “That’ll be me,” she says, giving his hand a small shake. “Mister Solo, correct?”  
  


He nods in agreement. “Ben is fine.”  
  


”Ben,” she says, deciding she likes the simplicity of it. “Follow me, please.” 

He sits down, and she grabs a rolling stool, a pen, a small notebook, and sits next to him. “Okay, so. What are we doing today?” She asks, and it’s only when he looks at her that she realizes his eyes are not dark brown like she previously thought. 

There’s green in there, and about three different shades of brown, and she wonders how this man exists. She looks at his features intently — they shouldn’t work, not individually at least, but they somehow do. 

She realizes she’s been staring at him for quite a while, and clears her throat. “Sorry. Got distracted for a second.” She apologizes, and is mortified to see that he’s smirking.  
  


“That’s fine,” he says. “I’ve been distracted more than once today, too.”

She smiles at him, and decides to stop staring and start doing her job. “You said you’d like a cut?”  
  


He nods. “Yeah, just a little bit of trimming. It’s grown too long.”  
  


She writes that down and gets up. “Okay then! Let’s go wash your hair.” 

She is keenly aware of his towering form following her, and wonders if he is even going to fit in the chair. She doesn’t know if this is his first time coming to her salon, but she knows she would have remembered his face, so she thinks it must be. 

He sits, and she drapes a towel around his shoulders, adjusting the shampoo bowl to accommodate his height. He leans back, and she tests the water temperature on her hand first.  
  


“How do you like your water temperature?” She asks, thinking he looks like a hot water kind of person.

He shrugs. “I like it hot, but never have enough time to enjoy it.”  
  


She smiles and nods, before realizing he can’t see her. “Hot it is, then.”  
  


She grabs the handle and keeps it close to his hairline, running her right hand through his locks. In all her years of working as a hairdresser, she has never had a customer with this kind of hair. It’s softer than it looks, and she wants to run her fingers through it for the rest of her life.

She makes sure the water touches every strand, before turning it off and grabbing the shampoo bottle on her right. She adds two dollops on her hand, and starts working it into Ben’s hair.

Her fingers work in small, circular motions along his hairline, starting on his forehead, moving all the way down behind his ears, ending at the base of his skull. Her hands don’t leave his skin as she moves them slightly up, palms flat against both sides of his head, adding a bit more pressure, just enough for him to relax under her touch and let go. Her thumbs keep his head in place as her remaining fingers move in small, but precise motions.  
  


“Is this okay?” She asks, and hears him hum in agreement.

“It’s perfect,” he says, his voice lazy. “Your hands are very skilled, Rey.”  
  


She blushes, and stops herself from informing him of all the other things her hands can do. She moves them again, this time working on the crown of his head, and she’s positive he’s purring.

She rinses out the shampoo, prolonging the process as much as she can. She’s aware that she will have to cut his hair next, and once that is done, he will walk out of the salon and her life, and she will miss the feel of his silky strands.

She tries not to be obvious that she’s stalling, and if he notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Turning the water off, she wraps his hair in a towel and walks him back to his seat.  
  


“Would you like a coffee? Tea?” She asks, combing through his hair.

He shakes his head. “No, thank you, I’m good.”  
  


She looks at him in the mirror, and finds him looking back at her. There’s something in his eyes, and the way he’s smiling at her softly, all dimples, which keeps her transfixed, unable to tear her gaze away from his. She’s all too aware of the rapid beating of her heart, of how it’s threatening to burst out of her chest.

She berates herself for liking this man so much, but her feelings are stronger than her.  
  


She has been combing through his hair for a solid ten minutes, and is mortified to see him pursing his lips in an attempt not to burst out laughing.

She drapes a cape around his shoulders, grabs her tools, and gets to work. Her hands work in precise motions, knowing exactly where to trim and where to let go. She looks in the mirror all the time, and every time she does, his eyes are on her.

“How long have you been working here?” He asks her, his deep voice making her dizzy.

  
“I started working here when I was 18,” she says, cutting another chunk of his hair. “I’m 22 now.”

  
“Must be tiring. You work long hours, correct?” He asks.4

She smiles. “It’s okay. I like my job, and your hair is gorgeous.”  
  


She wants to slap herself as soon as the words leave her mouth. She wants to pack her bags, change her name, and exile herself on some remote island.

“Is that so?” he says, and she has to bite her lip to stop herself from being vocal about all the things his deep timbre does to her. “I had a gorgeous girl complement my hair, and it’s not even 10:00 yet.”  
  


Did he... did he just call her gorgeous?

She doesn’t know what he’s thinking, and she realizes she’d love to know what’s going on in his head, even for a little bit.

  
“Thank you. A handsome man called me gorgeous, and it’s not even 10:00 yet.” She says, mirroring his words with a smile, and he smirks. 

One corner of his lips is lifted as he smirks, and they look so plushy, so delectable, that she’d love nothing more than to bite them, and she scolds herself for thirsting after a man she doesn’t even know. He could be married for all she knows, though she sees no ring.

She likes to believe he’s single, otherwise he wouldn’t be complimenting her. She thinks they’re flirting, though she can’t be sure — she knows she’s bad at it.  
  


Her hands work in a very robotic way, her head more in the clouds than on her own two shoulders. She lets the last strand go, smiling. She’ll wash his hair again after the cut and she’s excited about it, but it all turns into horror the moment she looks at him in the mirror.

She feels all color drain from her face. She’s frozen, her limbs not cooperating. This has never happened to her before. She wants to say something, apologize maybe, tell him she never meant to screw it up. Instead, all she manages to say is:  
“You look adorable!”

“I look like shit.” He says, looking at himself in the mirror.  
  


“I know,” she whines, throwing her hands up. “I’m sorry. I screwed up. It’s not entirely my fault!”  
  


“Oh really?” He says, eyebrows raised. “And whose fault is it?”  
  


“Yours!”

“Rey. I just sat here and asked for a trim. How is this my fault?”  
  


“You’re... you’re just... ugh,” grabbing the rolling stool, she sits next to him, and sighs. “I’m sorry. I got distracted.”  
  


“Okay...” he says, silently asking her to explain herself more.

“I think I got too distracted by your hair.” She explains slowly, hoping he doesn’t press her for more.  
  


Apparently the universe hates her, because that’s exactly what he does. “And...” he trails off.

She rolls her eyes. “And you’re very attractive.” She says in a voice so low, she can barely hear herself. Her heartbeat is going crazy, and he is too close and smells too good to be true.  
  


“Thank you,” he says. “I’m glad we got that out of the way.”

“I’ll... see what I can do to fix it. It’s all on me, of course.” She says, getting up and behind him, running her fingers through his hair.  
  


She should really stop doing that.  
  


“Actually, I have another idea,” he says, spinning around so he can face her.

He just sits there, looking at her intently, and she finds herself unable to look away from him. She doesn’t know what this man does for a living, but with that gaze, he’d be a very good lawyer. He doesn’t say anything, and she feels herself growing impatient.

“Go out with me.” He says, and she blinks.  
  


“Go... go out with you?” she repeats, not really understanding what he’s saying, even though it’s the same language she speaks.  
  


“Yes. Go out with me. Dinner. Then we can pretend this never happened.”  
  


“What, like a date?”

“Yes, like a date. Come on, Rey,” he says, smirking. “You can’t possibly tell me you never saw me staring at you.”  
  


She looks at him timidly, biting her lip. “You really want that?”  
  


“Very much so.” He assures her.  
  


She smiles, nodding, too aware of her burning cheeks.

“Okay.” She says, but all that comes out is a whisper.  
  


He smiles, big and wide this time, and if his smirk from before didn’t kill her, this one definitely will.  
  


“But you hair...” she trails off, running her fingers through his freshly cut hair. “I messed it up. Although...”

She walks away from him without a word, going to her storage room.  
  


“Don’t try to fix it, Rey, I don’t want to go bald.”  
  


“Bald...” she mutters. “Hey, bald. That could be an option!” She says, loud enough to be heard.

Grabbing what she needs, she goes back, only to find him looking at her with pure terror in his eyes.  
  


“I am NOT going bald, Rey,” he says, crossing his arms. “That’s one thing I can’t accept.”  
  


“Okay...” she says. “No bald. There’s also another option you could try.”

“I’m starting to hate your options.” He says, and she can hear the teasing note in his voice.  
  


“Do you trust me?” She asks him, and he raises an eyebrow at her question.  
  


“You just gave me a bowlcut and suggested I go bald. What do you think?”

“This is safe, I promise,” she says with a soft smile. “Close your eyes.”  
  


He does, albeit reluctantly, and she pulls her hands from behind her back. She puts the wig on his head, fixing it so it can look as natural as possible. “Okay. You can open them.”

He does, and she spins him around to face the mirror.

He just looks in the mirror for a few minutes, not saying a word, and she bites her lip, aware he hates it. She grabs it, wanting to remove it, when he puts his hands on hers, stilling her movements.  
  


“I never told you to remove it.” He says, and she pulls her hands away.

“You like it?” She says, suddenly aware how much his opinion matters to her.  
  


He nods, smiling. “It actually looks pretty good. I might even keep mine at this length when the bowlcut is gone.”  
  


She smiles widely. “You look very hot. More so than before.”

“Make sure not to be distracted this time.” He says, winking, and her silly heart skips a beat.  
  


She bends down, kissing his cheek, and removes his wig and cape. “You’ll always distract me. Come on, Mister Ben Bowlo. Let’s go wash that bowlcut.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this and thanks for reading- you can find me on Tumblr Shestoolazytologin or Twitter @Reylo4President. I'm chatty, so don't be shy 😊


End file.
